Page 26 of A Scarred Wallflower for the Duke
Was this all part of whatever game she was playing at? Vincent could not make sense of it. All he knew was that he was craving a little time alone with her. Craving the feel of her skin beneath his fingers. The taste of her lips against his.
Lord Renshaw put down his teacup and stood up suddenly. “Will you all excuse me for a few moments? I am afraid I rather overindulged. I think a little fresh air will do me good.”
Georgina looked up at him with warm blue eyes. “Of course, dearest. Take as long as you need.” The door clicked closed behind him and a stilted silence fell over the room. Vincent saw the sisters exchange glances. After a moment, Georgina began patting the back of her head, as though searching for something.
“Lydia,” she said brassily, “I seem to have lost one of my pearl combs. Perhaps it fell out in the dining room. Would you mind checking for me?”
Lydia bounced onto her feet. “Yes, of course. I shan’t be long.” And she was out of the room before Vincent could make sense of what was happening. He turned to Georgina, eyebrows raised at her odd request.
Well, this is interesting.
He grinned. “If I did not know better, Miss Wyatt, I would say you wanted to spend some time alone with me.”
Georgina snorted. “Please. Do not flatter yourself, Your Grace.”
He stood up and came to sit beside her on the settle. A part of him expected her to move away. And a part of him expected her to move closer. She did neither. “You can protest all you like,” he said, “but your actions tell me otherwise.”
Color flooded Georgina’s cheeks. It felt like a small victory. Pink-cheeked and flustered, with loose pieces of hair curling over her cheeks, she was almost impossibly appealing. She brought her teacup to her lips and took a tiny sip. Vincent was dimly aware that he was staring. But he could not pull his eyes away from her.
Georgina shifted uncomfortably. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Vincent smiled. “I want to draw you,” he said suddenly.
Her eyebrows rose. “Pardon?”
“I want to draw you,” Vincent said again. “Your portrait painter, he did not capture the real you. I could do a far better job.”
The corner of her lips turned up. “Could you now?”
“Yes,” he said firmly. He took the teacup from her hand and pressed a firm hand to her wrist, turning her to face him. “Will you allow me?”
Georgina hesitated. She looked down, picking at the stitching on her skirts. “I do not know. I…”
“It shan’t take long.” He gave her a crooked smile. “And I am sure your sister will relish the time away from me.”
“What about Lord Renshaw?”
The mention of his name made the muscles in Vincent’s shoulders tighten. “Well,” he said stiffly, “you shall have a fine sketch of yourself to give him as a gift. Perhaps as a wedding present.” He felt the sting of the words, yet kept his eyes on Georgina, in an attempt to gauge her reaction. Her expression gave nothing away.
She glanced out the window for a moment, as though considering his proposal. “Very well,” she said finally. She shuffled on the settle. “Shall I sit here? Is the light all right?”
“Not in here.” Vincent stood and held out a hand. To his surprise, Georgina reached for it. A jolt of energy went through his body. He led her across the room, but when they reached the doorway, she seemed to catch sight of what she was doing, and let her fingers slip through his.
“Quickly, then,” she hissed. “I do not want anyone to see us alone together.”
Vincent looked over his shoulder and grinned at her. “Why? Are you worried they might be able to tell how irresistible you find me?”
Georgina's cheeks turned a violent shade of red.
This is going to be fun.
ChapterFifteen
The Duke led Georgina up the wide wooden staircase leading from the foyer of Levinton Manor. Georgina could hear the Dowager Duchess’s boisterous laughing echoing up from the wine cellar, and the click of servants’ footsteps on the ground floor, but the rest of the house was quiet. She had no idea where Lydia and the Baron had disappeared to, but she knew the Duke was right—her sister would relish her time away from him. No doubt she would be in no hurry to return from Lord Renshaw’s side.
They reached a passage at the top of the stairs, where green-painted walls were lined with gilded gold-framed portraits and neat pastoral landscapes. Dark floorboards shone beneath her feet. Georgina’s heart was thumping; she had the distinct sense that she was somewhere she was not supposed to be.
Vincent led her down the passage and pushed open a door, gesturing for her to enter. She stepped inside, glancing around edgily. It looked to be the Duke’s smoking room, with a large wooden liquor cabinet against one wall, and a worn armchair beside it. A large window looked out over the neatly manicured grounds. In the corner opposite the liquor cabinet sat a chaise longue. It was achingly similar to the one in the sitting room at the masquerade ball.
